


an exercise in control over family members and automobiles

by memyselfandmine



Series: you put this kid behind the wheel, there's nothin he can't do [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: More driving, i locked aaron in the bathroom for this one, i should be asleep, its precanon all over the place lads, precanon, technically andrew did but yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 00:57:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15830472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memyselfandmine/pseuds/memyselfandmine
Summary: "Where are you going?"“Out.”“When will you be back?”Andrew didn’t respond, because he hadn’t bothered to plan that far ahead.





	an exercise in control over family members and automobiles

Sometimes Andrew felt like he could only breathe when he was behind the wheel of a car. 

Aaron was locked in the bathroom in the new house in Columbia. Andrew had to pin Nicky down to keep him from trying to open the door after hearing Aaron claw at it, screaming.

“We don’t have to do it like this, Andrew!” Nicky shouted. He wasn’t straining anymore, but the pain and fear were still shining in his eyes. “We can get him some help.”

“How?” Andrew asked. Nicky stuttered over his words, ultimately saying nothing. He knew just as well as Andrew that they couldn’t afford rehab for Aaron, even if they could find a good enough rehab center. Especially if they could find a good enough rehab center. There was nothing else they could do for him.

Aaron slammed against the bathroom door again, and Nicky flinched. Andrew slowly backed up, letting go of Nicky, who remained on the couch. “There has to be another way,” Nicky muttered.

“There isn’t,” Andrew reminded him, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket.  
“There should be,” his cousin responded miserably, sinking into the couch. 

Andrew said nothing in response. In a world where concepts like fairness and equality and justice actually existed, none of this would be a problem, but that was a fairy tale that he’d given up on at four years old. He only dealt with the present and fuck the rest of it.

He propped a cigarette between his lips, and after a moment of consideration, snatched the car keys up off the coffee table. 

Nicky had slumped over on the couch, face buried in the cushions. “Where are you going?” his muffled voice asked.

“Out.”

“When will you be back?”

Andrew didn’t respond, because he hadn’t bothered to plan that far ahead. 

“I have to be at Sweetie’s by six!” Nicky called out as Andrew walked out the door. 

The Maserati was a sleek and black and fast. It would’ve been without Andrew’s custom orders, but still he used Tilda’s blood money to tailor it to his exact specifications. He sank into the leather seat, cranked it up so he could actually reach the petals (sharing it with Nicky had its drawbacks, but Nicky paid for gas), and took off for the highway. 

He didn’t have a map, or a plan, or a destination in mind. No, the only goal was speed, air whipping around the open windows and drowning out absolutely everything. Andrew slid through cars with the reckless abandon held only by those with no care whether they live or die. He felt the roar of the engine under him, the shift of the clutch as he switched gears, the smooth leather grip of the steering wheel.

Here, he didn’t need to think anything about his brother’s grief over a woman who beat him daily, his cousin’s helplessness, these people that called themselves a family, whatever the fuck that even was. 

His brother, still locked in a bathroom, fighting withdrawal. His cousin, who needed to get to work eventually. Andrew found an exit to turn around in and headed back to Columbia.

Nicky was still on the couch when he walked back into the house. He was asleep, face smushed awkwardly against the arm of the couch. His pillow had fallen off the side onto the floor.

The house was quiet upstairs as well. Andrew glanced up the stairs and back at Nicky. HE picked up the pillow from the floor and threw it at his head.

“Wha—” Nicky startled awake, rolling onto his side. “Give a guy some warning, next time,” he groaned, rubbing his face. “What is it?”

“Aaron’s quiet,” Andrew replied.

“Huh? Yeah,” Nicky said, glancing at the ceiling. “I guess he crashed, finally. Only a matter of time. You want me to check on him?”

“It’s almost 6.”

“Oh, shit.” Nicky leapt up, sprinting for his room. “I’ve gotta run. I got those frozen thingies in the freezer, if you’re hungry, Andrew,” he shouted. “Remember to turn the oven off after you use it!”

Andrew wasn’t hungry. He sat down on the vacated couch and watched Nicky run around the house, grabbing his uniform, brushing through his hair, digging his shoes out from under two separate places. 

“I’ll be back around one,” Nicky said, pulling his shoes on. He grabbed the keys from where Andrew left them on the coffee table. “If you need anything at all, call me at work, okay?”

Nicky gave him an expectant look. Andrew stared impassively back. Nicky rolled his eyes. “Okay, just remember you can call, okay? Okay. I’ll see you later!” He dashed out the door. After a moment, Andrew heard the growl of the Maserati retreat down the street. 

He laid his back against the couch. There was a shuffling noise from upstairs. The walls were thin here. Andrew heard a thump, the clatter of cans against linoleum, and soft swearing. They had stashed enough canned food in the bathroom with Aaron to keep him satisfied for a while. Even though he’d just gotten back, he wanted to drive again. He wanted to feel the rumble of an engine. He wanted his control again. He closed his eyes and reminded himself. He didn’t want anything.

**Author's Note:**

> I had to look up whether a Maserati was manual or automatic for this one. Apparently it can be....both?


End file.
